


running away is what you do best

by wwanderingproxy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sgrub Session, hjk the relationships are technically fake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 08:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12767289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wwanderingproxy/pseuds/wwanderingproxy
Summary: Your name is Karkat Vantas, you are seven and a half sweeps old, and you’ve been waiting for this night your entire short-ass life.





	running away is what you do best

**Author's Note:**

> idk this has been sitting in my docs for a while, it's unedited but i have Strong Feelings About The Empire so i put them here
> 
> is it obvious that equius is my favorite troll yet
> 
> warnings: mentions of forced underage sex (sounds worse than it is, i swear), and one or two offhanded mentions of suicide

Your name is Karkat Vantas, you are seven and a half sweeps old, and you’ve been waiting for this night your entire short-ass life.

You can barely hear the Culling Drones buzzing over your own heartbeat in your ears, your color vividly staining your gray shirt, and your side on fucking fire. Your whole being is shaking like a leaf in a hurricane.

With a quick glance behind, you realize they’ve finally lost you, you can stop running- you can fucking calm down- so you throw yourself into a little cave, twisted underneath some fucking highblood’s hive. It’s barely a cave really, just a crevice in the rock, but it’s but enough for you to hide in and curl yourself away. This is a blueblood lawnring, you think, though they don’t call them that here- you weren’t aware you even had one so close to where you live.

A tickle in your lungs drags you kicking and screaming out of your thoughts. It’s dusty as all fuck around here and you’ve been running for at least a fucking hour and now your lungs are trying to turn themselves inside out, bringing you to your knees and spreading little flecks of candy-red across the rock, god.

You wipe the sides of your mouth and then inspect the blood on your hands, precariously moving to wipe it on your shirt, already stained your mutant color. Carefully, you wedge yourself further into the rock and struggle out of the thing, wincing as fabric irritates the burns on your side. Whatever. There’ll be medical supplies on the ship, you think.

Said ship you’ve had since about a sweep ago, ready to get off this godforsaken planet. You meant to go alone, fire yourself out into space and live out the rest of your days, but then Terezi happened. She did something in between tricking and guilting you into telling her. You tried to keep her from coming because what the fuck, she’s going to be fine, why would she throw her life away like this, but there’s no stopping a determined Terezi Pyrope, so. It was only after the two of you found out that Sollux was a class six psionic, _(class fucking six, literally invented for the absurdly-fucking-powerful helmsman of the battleship condescension, you’re still reeling)_ which was basically an instant sentence to being a helmsman for the rest of his life, that he got dragged into your shitty plans.  
  
Sighing, you take your moment of peace to look yourself over. As mentioned, there’s a burn on your side, but there’s also a gash on your arm, both from the same stupid fucking drone. You knew it was Culling Night for this generation, but you live in a midblood lawnring, it shouldn’t have been around for the midbloods until later in the night. It caught you off guard and you looked it in the eye like an goddamn dumbass while it scanned your blood and then you ran like your life depended on it, because, well, it did. Does. Fuck.

Either way, you didn’t get out without a few.. scrapes.

You flip your shirt inside out and throw it back on, and the feeling of dried blood sits uncomfortably on you, but at least the red hue isn’t visible anymore, only the dark stains and the hems.

Rubbing your face, you curl up in a sitting position and open up your mobile device, the husktop a little too large for the cramped cavern. There’s a message you expect, and there’s a message you.. don’t.

gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GC: K4RK4T  
GC: K4RK4T!!  
GC: 4R3 W3 ST1LL DO1NG TH1S?  
GC: TH3R3S W4Y TOO M4NY DRON3S 4ROUND H3R3  
GC: 1M S4F3 BUT TH3YR3 BOUND TO F1ND SOLLUX SOON]  
GC: K4RK4T  
GC: UGH

gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: SHIT SORRY  
CG: FUCKING DRONES  
CG: THEY CAUGHT ME  
CG: IM FINE BUT KIND OF FUCKING LOST  
CG: ILL GET BACK TO YOU

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

  
centaursTesticle [CT] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CT: D --> Is that you running around down there  
CT: D --> You realize the drones didn't follow you down this street

Oh for fucks sake. Are you really around this asshole’s hive?

CG: UH  
CG: WHAT?  
CG: WHY WOULD YOU THINK IT WAS ME  
CT: D --> Your obno%ious hemanonymous sign  
CG: GODDAMNIT  
CG: IF YOU KNEW IT WAS ME WHY WOULD YOU ASK  
CT: D --> Politeness, mostly  
CG: OKAY WELL  
CG: I DONT KNOW IF YOU CAN STILL SEE ME BUT I SWEAR THAT THIS ISNT MY BLOOD  
CT: D --> ?  
CG: FUCK JUST  
CG: IGNORE THAT  
CG: KIND OF OUT OF IT AFTER RUNNING FOR MY LIFE FOR NEARLY A FUCKING HOUR  
CT: D --> If you'd like you can come to my hive, if you cease the foul language  
CT: D --> It's certainly more comfortable than hiding in a hole beneath Vriska's  
CG: FUCK THIS IS UNDER VRISKA’S HIVE??  
CG: WAIT I MEAN  
CG: YEAH ILL CUT THAT OUT  
CG: WAIT WHY THE HELL DO YOU WANT ME AT YOUR HIVE  
CG: HECK  
CG: WHATEVER  
CG: YOU REALIZE IM MARKED TO BE CULLED RIGHT  
CG: YOU’D BE CULLED TOO FOR HIDING ME  
CT: D --> I am already marked for culling anyway  
CT: D --> It's better to die with company than without it  
CT: D --> Also almost an assuredly less painful death to be found with someone, and not hiding  
CG: UH WHAT  
CG: WHY ARE *YOU* MARKED FOR CULLING OF ALL PEOPLE  
CT: D --> Quadrants  
CT: D --> Unfortunate, but it's how things are  
CT: D --> Are you going to come  
CG: SURE?  
CG: UH  
CG: WHICH ONE  
CT: D --> It's connected to the one you're under  
CT: D --> You may want to go around a little  
CT: D --> Vriska's lusus can be  
CT: D --> Ferocious  
CG: GOD KNOWS THATS FOR SURE

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling centaursTesticle [CT]

  
You shake yourself out a little bit, closing out the Trollian window. Alright. So you’re gonna go into the casteist prick’s hive. Who is also apparently marked for culling and downright eerily okay with it. While bleeding your ridiculously vibrant mutant blood. ..But you do know that practically everything is untraceable from his hive, and that’s definitely gonna tilt the scales in the whole ‘not getting impaled by a shiny imperial drone’ direction.

This can’t end terribly at all.

You check yourself to make sure you don’t visibly have blood on you before slowly peeking out of your hiding spot under- ugh- Vriska’s hive.

It takes you a few minutes, but you work your way around, taking a nice, wide detour around Vriska’s terrifying spider lusus. Drones in other lawnrings scour through hives, and you don’t know how fast they’re going to get here. Just the sight of them makes your bloodpusher stutter, and you rush up to Equius’ hive entrance.

He opens the door looking.. oddly normal, for all that you’re both supposed to be murdered. With a lack of social skills that surprises absolutely nobody, the first words out of his mouth as he lets you inside are, “Is your shirt inside out?”

You remember that you’re literally in his hive out of his charity, and feel kind of like an asshole for that comment, even if it was just in your head. “Uh, yeah-” you start, frazzled thinkpan scrambling for a reasonable explanation for that other than yeah, I’ve just totally lost it. “Terezi wrecked half my shhh.. stuff with bright red paint as a joke. I’m hiding it so I don’t, yknow, get the horrible torture-death a mutantblood would.”

Great job you utter fucking nookwhiffler, you just managed to pin your death on the literal most important person in your life. Fucking hell. On another note, though, you do know in absurdly specific detail every method of culling a mutant like you could get. You like to think of it as motivation for your stupid suicide plan.

“A cruel prank,” Equius comments, settling beside a pile of scrap parts. Neither of you have moved past the entryblock, which you’re kind of relieved for. You’re indebted to him but you also really can’t take his sheer confusion on why everyone hates the art around his hive so much.

“It- She... It was mostly a misunderstanding. She didn’t realize I was going to be culled anyway, she just..” you fumble, trying to take back the shitty implications around Terezi, sliding down the wall and pulling one knee up towards your chest. Before you can let him get anything out (like ask you why you’re really getting culled), you quickly change the topic towards him. “So, quadrants, huh? Those were due last perigee, have you been sitting on this the whole time? Nobody else seems like they know.”

He looks skeptical but he only hesitates a moment before figuring that you really don’t want to talk about it or something, which isn’t exactly wrong. “Yes,” he replies. It’s hard to tell through his shades, but his head tilts a little to the left, so you assume he looks away, brow furrowing and mouth twisting. “I’ve been.. I meant to end my moirallegiance with Nepeta in preparation, but I.. am too selfish for that.”

Man, you kind of forgot how much this can fuck up people who haven’t been actively waiting for it their whole lives.

“..Sorry, dude,” you reply, trying to force the obnoxiousness out of your voice. “Must’ve been kind of sh- _awful_ knowing there wasn’t anything you could do.”

Instead of answering, he says, “You must have known of your fate for a while as well.”

You don’t have a reply for that.

There is a stretched silence between the two of you, and you cast your gaze down, picking at the stitching of your backwards shirt and listening to the buzz of the Drones, lawnrings away and yet far too close. You need to get moving, but the despair of your situation keeps you rooted to the ground, millennia of terror writing complacency into your very bones, your blood.

A Trollian notification snaps you from your stupor.

gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GC: YOU GOT C4UGHT??  
CG: YEAH, THEY DECIDED TO SHOW UP WAY FUCKING EARLIER THAN I EXPECTED  
CG: IT’S FINE NOW THOUGH  
CG: I’M ACTUALLY AT EQUIUS’ HIVE?  
CG: APPARENTLY HE’S ALSO MARKED FOR CULLING  
GC: S3R1OUSLY?  
GC: WHY WOULD H3 OF 4LL TROLLS G3T CULL3D??  
CG: THAT’S WHAT I SAID  
CG: HE FUCKED UP HIS QUADRANTS APPARENTLY  
CG: I CAN GET THE COORDS AND SEND THEM TO YOU NOW THOUGH  
CG: YOU TWO OKAY?  
GC: F1N3, TH3 DRON3S H4V3 L3FT TH41R F1RST SW33P OF MY L4WNR1NG  
GC: PR33TY SUR3 SOLLUX 1S GO1NG TO BLOW H1S SH1T SOON THOUGH  
CG: YEAH OKAY OKAY IM GONNA GET THIS SHIT ON THE ROAD  
GC: GOOD  
GC: WOULDNT W4NT YOUR PR3TTY K1SM3S1S G3TT1NG SL4GHT3R3D  
CG: YOU KNOW WHAT NEVERMIND I TAKE IT BACK IM GOING AS SLOW AS POSSIBLE  
GC: <3  
CG: YOU ARE LITERALLY THE WORST SENTIENT BEING I HAVE EVER MET  
GC: H4H4  
GC: S3R1OUSLY THOUGH  
GC: 1 KNOW YOU PUT YOURS3LF DOWN 4S OUR K1SM3S1S 4ND M4T3SPR1T TO G3T US THROUGH TH3 DRON3S  
GC: BUT P3RSON4LLY 1 TH1NK SOLLUX H4S SOM3 R3344L BL4CK F33L1NGS 1N TH4T COLD D34D H34RT OF H1S FO  
GC: don't beliieve her 2he'2 a diirty fuckiing liiar  
GC: about all of that  
GC: 2he'2 the one who'2 flu2hed a2 fuck for y  
CG: OH JESUS *CHRIST*  
CG: WHY DO I FEEL LIKE YOU TWO ARE CONSTANTLY IN SOME GAME OF WHO CAN FUCK WITH ME THE MOST  
GC: W3 K1ND OF 4R3 TO B3 F41R  
CG: GOD FUCKING DAMNIT  
CG: SPEAKING OF THE SHITTIEST FUCKING TIME TO PLAY QUADRANT GAMES  
CG: I NEED TO GO ACTUALLY GET PREPARED FOR THE ESCAPE OF OUR IMMENINE DEMISE, THANKS

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

  
“Terezi..” you mutter irritably, strangling the first words in the back of your throat, because yeah, that was definitely not some language for ‘polite company.’

Equius glances up at you, curious, and you meet his eyes for a moment. You both.. awkwardly settle on a stalemate, and look back down at your palmhusks.

The coordinates are encrypted under like six different passcodes and you don’t even know two of them, because that’s what having a super-genius asshole coder as a friend is like, you guess. You enter the first one and that should be enough to send the file and let Terezi and Sollux handle it, but no, you’re. You’re faced with another entry screen.

You don’t remember this one and quite frankly you want to burst out in horrible, frustrated tears, but you can’t do that. Tears mean death. Just like bleeding means death and indulging in literally any personal pleasure means death and even getting slightly fucking old means death cause then your eyes will fill in and it’ll be clear as night to anyone that sees you that hey, you’re a filthy mutant scum!

God, how did you ever think you could be a threshecutioner someday?

You clench a fist and grit your teeth and start combing through your files, searching for any hint of what the stupid passcode could be. You even drag out your husktop because fuck, you’re running out of time, and you can’t stop your pan from drifting to whatever the hell must be going down at Terezi’s hive. You can’t keep them waiting forever.

Fuck, stop heaving like you’re gonna cry.

gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GC: SOLLUX 1S BUGG1NG M3  
GC: T4K3 H1M  
GC: wow tz love you two  
GC: waiit, here  
GC: are you fuckiing ready yet  
CG: FUCK OFF FOR LIKE THREE SECONDS PLEASE IM GONNA KILL SOMEONE  
GC: uh  
GC: 2orry?  
CG: UGH  
CG: NO IM SORRY  
CG: GODDAMNIT  
CG: JUST  
CG: WHAT THE HELL WERE ANY OF THE PASSWORDS WHAT THE FUCK  
GC: ii thiink that kiind of defeat2 the purpo2e of an encryptiion  
CG: OKAY BUT LITERALLY NOTHING WILL EVER BE TRACED FROM HERE  
CG: IM A FAILURE AND A DISSAPOINTMENT AND YOURE ALL GONNA DIE BECAUSE THIS SHITTY JOB WAS LEFT IN MY HANDS ECT ECT ECT  
CG: DO YOU WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE JUST FUCKING TELL ME  
GC: here ju2t

gallowsCalibrator [GC] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

CG: FUCK

In true Sollux fashion, he does not explain fucking anything. Instead, your squeakpointer suddenly stops responding, and oh fucking god you’re going to throw your husktop across the room, maybe if you hit Equius hard enough with it he’ll snap your throat.

Then you realize that it’s just Sollux taking it over, and you exhale very, very slowly. He copy letters and symbols from around your husktop since he can’t type from there, pasting them into the typing bar.

gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

GC: now hiit enter and 2end the fuckiing fiile  
GC: iim gonna riip my own eye2 out iif ii 2tay any longer  
GC: OK4Y W3LL  
GC: W411TTTT  
GC: OK4Y  
GC: NOW TH4T 4PPL3B3RRY MCB1TCHYF4C3 H4S THROWN H1S T4NTRUM 4ND CONTR1BUT3D H1S B1T TO TH3 PLOT  
GC: 1 H4V3 4 QU3ST1ON  
CG: GAHHHH WAIT

You decrypt the stupid fucking file and don’t even bother to look because fuck it, they’re probably closer to the place than you are, they’ll get there first. Dragging it over to Trollian, you hit send.

carcinoGeneticist [CG] has sent three files! Download?

CG: THERE  
CG: NOW WHAT  
GC: OK4Y F1N4LLY  
GC: W3’LL H34D OUT 1N 4 S3COND  
GC: BUT F1RST  
GC: 1S 3QU1US COM1NG?  
CG: WHAT?  
CG: WHY WOULD HE  
GC: H3’S M4RK3D FOR CULL1NG TOO, YOU S41D SO YOURS3LF  
GC: 4ND 1SNT TH1S WHOL3 TH1NG K1ND OF 4N 3MUL4T1ON OF YOUR 4NC3STOR?  
GC: PROT3ST1NG CULL1NG 4ND 4LL TH3 OTH3R BULLSH1T?  
CG: NO!  
CG: FUCK MY ANCESTOR  
CG: HE WAS A NAIVE ASSHOLE WHO THOUGHT HE COULD MAKE A DIFFERENCE AND RUINED PEOPLES LIVES IN THE PROCESS  
CG: FUCK THE FACT ANCESTORS ARE EVEN A THING BECAUSE OH BOY DO I HAVE A LIST OF FUCKING GREIVANCES WITH THOSE  
GC: W3 4LL KNOW  
CG: FUCKING GOOD  
CG: AND THIS ISNT PROTESTING ANYWAY  
CG: THIS IS RUNNING AWAY  
CG: WE’RE FUCKING FLEEING THIS SORRY LITTLE PLANET LIKE COWARDS, ADMIT IT  
CG: I DON’T THINK HE’D EVEN WANT TO COME?  
GC: >=?  
CG: YOU KNOW EQUIUS AND THE HEMOSPECTRUM  
CG: I’M PRETTY SURE HE’D HAVE ALREADY OFFED HIMSELF FOR THE DRONES IF THAT WASN’T ‘IMPROPER’  
GC: JUST 4SSSKK  
GC: 1’M CUR1OUS HOW H3’LL R3SPOND >=]  
CG: FUCK  
CG: FINE  
CG: IT’S YOUR FAULT IF THIS GETS US ALL KILLED, NOT MINE

carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling gallowsCalibrator [GC]

You take a deep breath. You don’t really know why Terezi wants you to try so much, and you don’t really care too much either way. Personally, you think she has the whole ‘save everyone’ nonsense still stuck up her waste chute, but whatever, you can’t judge. God knows you had enough incoherent horseshit spewing out of your own for sweeps on end. You let the breath out. How... How are you gonna go about this?

You lock your palmhusk onto the location and shove it in your pocket. Then, slowly, you put away all your items away, swallowing as you try to draft an offer.

Equius notices you as you stand up, blinking owlishly, yellow sclrea only barely visible over the top of his broken shades from your vantage point. The beginnings of deep indigo tint his black irises, and wow. Is he really that old? Are you all really that old?

You shift yourself to prepare for a very, very quick abscond, perched by the door. Your muscles ache with protest but you think you could outrun him if you need to; his thing is strength, not speed.

“I lied to you,” you say, which is a horrible fucking start to the highblood with the worst anger issues of them all, holy shit. He doesn’t immediately snap your neck, but his expression does twist in a way that makes you very glad you included the codes to start up the ship in the files you sent Terezi. “Uh. About a couple of things?” Oh god your voice is cracking like a six sweep olds.

He’s still silent, but he does make a little, “Oh,” noise, that swings you wildly between wanting to apologize and wanting to run. Gotta love lowblood instincts, not like your fucked over ass should have any.

“So, uh. Hear me out.” You can physically feel yourself shifting into preacher mode the way you do sometimes, ranting fervently at whatever idiotic bulgesucker will bother to pay attention, even if your points aren’t always righteous or what the fuck ever. “I’m a mutantblood. Bright, candy, obnoxious red. Terezi didn’t do any of that stuff I said, and I’m a prick for using her as an excuse, it’s all me, right here,” you ramble. He doesn’t, like, jump at you ferally, so you loosen your death grip on his doorknob to hike up the sleeve of your shirt and ow, ow, fucking ow, fabric on wounds hurts really bad.

It’s not quite bleeding anymore but it and the skin around it is an angry red, and your other arm flies back to the doorknob as he pushes himself to his feet, peering curiously at it with a hint of a scowl.

“Yeah. That’s, uh. Why I’m marked. I’ve known literally my entire life. I..” you lick your lips, pulling the door open just a little. “I’m leaving. Running away. I’m gonna get in a little ship with- with Terezi and Sollux, and we’re gonna fly the fuck- er, fly away and live the rest of our days out on a ship because the Empire is an awful, stupid disaster, but it’s also way too widespread to do anything, so... So we’re leaving.”

“Equius,” you say, because fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck, why can’t you read his expression, it would be really fucking handy if you could tell even a little what he thinks. “Do you care even a little bit about your life outside of being a blueblood?”

“No,” he says immediately, so fast and mechanical that you can tell it’s drilled into his mind. His voice is sure, steady, but he’s tense, visibly uncomfortable and with a little furrow of the brow, and yeah, you can read that. Every inch of him screams guilt, but guilt at what? Guilt about what he- his class- does to lowbloods? Guilt that he’s disobeying the rules, just by letting you live? ...Guilt that he questions them?

You are suddenly right as stuck on the ‘save everyone’ train as Terezi is, and you grab onto that last idea, because holy shit, you didn’t even expect to make it anywhere near this far “Do you really?” you reply, snarling even though it’s just a question. “Do you even know? Have you bothered to even consider what being a blueblood means? Who you are without it?” The drones buzz outside and everything is so much, adrenaline pushing on overdrive through your system even though you’re just standing and fucking yelling.

“Nothing,” he insists, but he’s still frozen. The words come with little breaks, expression stuck between scowling and terrified. You hate this. You hate how the Empire does this. You hate how nobody realizes how fucking terrible it is. “There is-- nothing but your blood. Ever.”

“That bullfuckery is exactly what I’m saying!” you snap, and whoops, you’re cursing again. He doesn’t even call you out on it. “The caste system is built on shit all but blood composition and chance, there’s no reason for things to be the way they are! Lowbloods are granted psychic powers and highbloods longer life, and why should that end with them on top? With that logic, lowbloods should be in charge! There’s more, and they’re more powerful, so why is the Condense on top, huh?”

“She-” his voice wavers, “She won her trials against the last Empress.”

“And she won hers against the last, and she won hers against the last, over and over and over and over and over until you get the the first fucking fuchsiabloods and how did they get on top, hm?” You don’t let him answer. “War and torture and slavery and fear mongering and a ruthlessness that would be fucking impressive if it weren’t for no reason. No reason other than to get her grubby little claws on power and fuck over everyone who wasn’t her, other highbloods included. Fucking- look at yourself, Zahhak.”

You’re gesturing furiously with one hand, the other braced against the doorknob, ranting but ready to run. He doesn’t respond, which is probably a good thing, cause that was kind of unnecessarily rude, and if he interrupted now you’d run out of steam, and you haven’t even gotten to the offer yet. You should probably do that. “But fine, I won’t talk about the hemospectrum,” you say, and nope, okay, you’re still going. “Consider this. The youngest trolls this conscription? Six sweeps old.”

The fact actually makes you sick, but you can tell he really, really does not comprehend the implications of that. So you go on. “Six sweeps. Practically fucking wrigglers, Equius. Six sweeps old and expected to kill and to fill two pails regularly, to have your quadrants and what the hell you want to do with your life sorted out. Do you remember what it’s like to be six sweeps? We were idiots. Remember what you did to Aradia?” He flinches. Yeah. “That number gets lower and lower every few conscriptions- When we were six sweeps, the youngest troll a conscription would touch was seven. It’s lowering goddamn exponentially, what’s it gonna be next time? Five sweeps, four sweeps? That’s when Eridan and Vriska started killing. You know how well that turned out for them.” Okay, goddammit, time to wrap this shit up, you can’t keep them waiting and you’re worked up, panting and hissing and sweating.

“This isn’t a perfectly oiled machine making good little warriors in the name of destiny. This is a shitty, toxic mess held together by a power crazy fuchsia, and I don’t know what the hell is happening out there, but it’s making them desperate. And I won’t stand for that, so I’m leaving, and I’m-- I’m extending an offer to you. You can come with us. I’m not gonna lie, we don’t have a plan. Personally, I was planning on shooting off as far from Alternia we can possibly get and live out the rest of our days just under the radar, but Terezi seems to have different ideas, so. You can come. Follow me right now and you can avoid your death here, maybe.” He doesn’t reply, not quite scowling anymore but once again unreadable.

It’s definitely time to go, so you move, turning to the door. Slide it open slowly as you lick your chapped lips, looking over at him. “I don’t care either way what you do. It’s your choice. But, if you don’t..” Your muscles are bunched, ready to run. Your friends are waiting.

“Don’t fuck it up for the rest of us.”


End file.
